Blame

It is a natural instinct,
when feelings rise within,
which make us feel uncomfortable,
that we demand to know,
just why it is we feel this way,
an answer now and sure,
which takes the blame to others,
is that on which we call.

In looking out upon the world,
to find a hook nearby,
on which a story can be hung,
which lets us stand aside,
from doing all the inner work,
the feelings would reveal;
from changing something in ourselves,
that we may truly heal.

It’s easier to hang it all,
out there, away from us,
on person, place or circumstance,
than take it on ourselves,
of being full responsible,
and holding to account,
the only one who makes our world,
and all which comes to us.

As long as we can blame someone,
or some thing in our lives,
then we can hold our fragile world,
and selves as we would be,
despite the fact that there’s no truth,
or deep reality; just stories
we will tell ourselves
of who we might have been.

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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